The snow that stayed
A story for when life forces you to pause, even when you weren’t planning to.
The snow began just after breakfast. The soft, lazy kind that drifts sideways for a while as though trying not to cause too much trouble. Marvin the Moose watched the flakes from the library window, chin resting on the sill, while Otis the Owl sorted a small stack of returned books with the very serious concentration of someone performing extremely official librarian duties.
Marvin suspected at least half those books had already been returned last week, but he didn’t say anything. He knew better than to interrupt an owl who had organised his entire personality around being in charge of the return cart.
By lunchtime, the snow had thickened into a determined blanket. And the whole forest looked like someone had shaken a giant feather pillow over Brambledown. Paths disappeared, burrows and dens vanished under drifts, and branches bent under the sparkling weight. The old footbridge over the stream had dissolved into nothing but a small, suspiciously bridge-shaped mound.
The world outside had gone quiet in that particular way only winter can manage; muffled, glowing, and wrapped in that soft, holy hush winter sometimes brings when it really means it.
𖦹 The rest of this Brambledown tale is for paid subscribers — if you’d like to keep wandering with Marvin and Otis into their snowy day, and receive a new emotional support story from the forest floor reach week, you’re so welcome to join us. You’ll also unlock a whole archive of past stories too. Thank you for supporting the time and care that goes into making these slow and quiet tales in a world that seems to be getting quicker each day.
